Work Text:
Well.
'This gig could have gone a lot better', was what crossed Dante's mind, while he stared morosely at the ceiling of the warehouse he had just been fighting in.
He should have seen it coming, really.
It would be fine, totally, no problemo. Little inconvenient but nothing that he couldn't handle. He was just going to have to roll with it for now.
The job had been simple.
The client had seen some weird stuff going on over here in the warehouse, a mouldy grey thing that looked as if it belonged in a cheap Halloween movie set spreading all over the walls and half the floor at first. Nothing too worrying. But the weird noises and silhouettes that had made an appearance later, had tipped them off about something being not quite right over here.
Of course, one plus one equals two and weird stuff like this obviously could only mean that demons were being a pain in the ass.
Meaning, needing someone to handle the situation, aka Devil Hunter extraordinaire, yours truly. Available full time, weekends and holidays included.
The weird demonic mould Dante had seen once or twice. It was…well, it certainly could be worse. Far worse, in account of being native to Hell.
As far as Dante had seen, most of the time it acted kinda parasitic against the surface it grew in. It weakened it, taking the nutrients it could out of it, and then smothered the surface beneath it until it gave in. Rinse and repeat everywhere it grew.
Nothing too crazy, all things considered, just freaky mould.
In addition to that, most of the time it would end up being the one thing actually supporting the walls and ceiling afterwards. It was pretty effective at holding them up to say the least.
On account of being pretty much indestructible.
Now that Dante was thinking about it, would it be useful as a replacement for the offices walls? It would save him the money if he could fin a way to use them…
…Moving on!
As he said, it wasn't particularly dangerous, in the account of, once again, being from demonic origin.
From what he had managed to see, it mostly just made the demons around it disoriented because of some of it's wacky magical properties that Dante was too annoyed to dwell on. Some kind of headaches-inducing spores or whatever.
(After the first hundred and so evil moulds and plants, every other looks exactly the same, so he isn't too interested in learning the details. Tip for Devil hunting? If you don't know what it is, and is not from the human realm, shoot it. Seems drastic, but it will save you the trouble. You'll hardly go wrong with that)
You may be thinking 'Oh, but if the mould isn't really that dangerous, then why would it be trouble to get rid of the demons on this job? Why would it end up with you being stuck under tons of debris, Dante?'
Easy. Because demons are angry assholes with zero brains.
Or if they do have brains, they'd rather make his life difficult than something as mundane as, survive, y'know?
They can never let him have an easy, nice day where he goes on a job, kills them quickly and then goes back to take a nap with time to spare, can they?
Nope, they have to go and fuck around with the stupid mould.
Agh.
Yeah, so the real problem had not been the mould, which had been, at most, an inconvenience that had needed him to be mindful of the terrain.
The real problem had began when these morons, had decided to tear it off the walls.
Same walls that it had been holding up.
Of course they would want to knock down the building on top of them all. Of course they would.
Because why would they ever want to not get turned into a bloody tortilla against the floor?
(Smarts, if it wasn't already obvious, weren't demons forte)
Though he would concede that it may also have had something to do with the loud noises coming from outside, where some humans had apparently began to work.
Which annoyed Dante quite a bit.
He had specifically asked the client to tell the workers around here to stay away while he wasn't finished with the job.
Regretfully, some humans were as bad as demons regarding the use of their brains.
(Some people seemed to want to get eaten by demons on purpose, seriously)
Ugh. Anyways.
A pack of angry demons, one that included a feisty Behemoth, tearing down the mould that had been currently holding the whole building up, might have come with unwanted results.
Like being stuck under a shit ton of rubble, for example.
Dante would have love to sigh at that, but his lungs were already feeling a bit squished, so he thought better of it and refrained.
Aaaanyways.
It wasn't that bad. Yeah, the pain was a bitch, having his lungs and ribs flattened, and then his legs and spine in pieces was not any fun, but at least his face had avoided most damage, only getting hit by some of the smaller rubble.
Small joys. Breaking his skull, was the worst.
(He might be suffering from a concussion, though. Should check on that one, probably)
Oh, well, you can't win at everything. He gets to keep his brains in, but becomes a soup from his shoulders down and his head gets to experience the worst hangover ever (without even needing any drink for it!)
What an amazing deal, really.
The wait for his body to mend is the worst part.
With the rocks still trapping him, it's going to take a while until he can move again, and then it will take an even longer while for him to be fully healed.
Dante decidedly kept his eyes on the ceiling to avoid looking at the still growing pool of blood beneath him.
Dammit, his clothes were going to need a good wash. Blood was always so damn sticky after drying off. It was a pain to get it cleaned.
…How long had he been laying down here, anyway?
Dante began a mental recount on everything that had happened until now, trying to focus on something more productive than his draining blood.
The job had come in at night, which Dante had already been exasperated with, because the one time he had not been able to take a nap, was the day everyone suddenly had a problem.
Getting to the warehouse had been easy, barely any trouble, but between the terrain and his already substantial debt regarding collateral damage on different jobs, he had been working slowly on getting rid of the demons.
(Fat lot of good being careful did…)
At the present time, despite the tons of debris around him, he could make out muffled noise coming from the people outside, far too many to only be caused by the workers that had been there before.
It could either mean that someone had called the emergency services, or perhaps that the sun had already risen. He couldn't be sure without being able to see.
The ceiling, of course, didn't bother to offer him any answers.
(Dante didn't like how it looked like from down here. As if it was mocking him with it's silence, laughing at his horrid luck. He could just sense it's smugness.
Or maybe it was just the blood loss. He was pretty sure that the metal beams above weren't supposed to be spinning)
Really, after the building had caved in and the now, utterly dead demons had fucked everything up, the ceiling wouldn't even allow Dante the grace to see anything else that wasn't rubble, rubble and…oh, look at that, more rubble!
It wasn't too much information to go by. If he could just turn his head a bit, maybe he would be able to glance at one of the windows that had been there…
(If they hadn't also been blocked by more debris)
He tried to shift, attempting to crane his neck to the side to check, hoping that somehow, he would have an exit visible around him, but his vision blurred with the movement, one of his muscles tearing.
Dante hissed in pain and let himself back down to his early position. The remains of the ceiling pinning him down didn't even budge.
Dante clenched his teeth, gaze flickering around, unable to settle and avoiding to look at the looming wreckage above him.
(Alright, maybe he also was a bit too eager at trying to get out because he was getting a bit antsy too. But come on, who could fault him?)
The darkness around him seemed to choke the little life around the space he had, enhancing the distances between the outside and the inside.
Dante could feel his body shifting under the heavy weight of the destroyed structure of the warehouse, bones mending, lungs being held from collapsing by the properties of his demonic blood and nothing else.
The eerie silence that he couldn't escape from was unnerving, contrasting with the faraway sounds of humanity going on with their lives. Far too daunting.
The dust left in the wake of the destruction here was floating in the air above him, Dante feeling it enter his ruined lungs every time he inhaled.
(Which probably wasn't helping him heal either)
The whole atmosphere, despite the apparent calm, could do nothing but make Dante feel just the tiniest bit uneasy.
He tried to force himself to push the wreckage up, energy building up inside his chest. He felt it move, allowing just the smallest bit of room.
Dante tried to push himself with his arms, since his legs were pretty much useless at the moment, but his control slipped and the wreckage came back down once again, this time barely missing from splattering his brain.
The pressure of his lungs increased, and he gave a wheeze, fighting to breathe. Everything felt too tight—
Dante forced himself loosen up. The remains trapping him slowly managed to settle back into place.
He was seriously hoping that the building didn't completely fall all over him.
Don't get him wrong, if it did, it wouldn't kill him, sure, but he would rather not have to deal with that on top of everything else.
(Heh. On top. Hah)
It really wasn't the best sensation, to have your body crushed by a building. Dante pressed his lips.
(Everything felt too close. He wanted out)
He let his head fall against the floor again, lifting some more dust when it made contact. He watched the particles slowly sway, and he drifted off for a bit, simply staring in quiet contemplation, waiting.
For his body to heal, for the building to cave in completely. Something, anything. Just whatever let him get rid of the weight trying to crush him.
…
His head hurt.
(Yep, the concussion was nearly a given, really)
Finally, Dante was torn from his thoughts when he heard the sound of rocks and metal moving around.
'Ah. That can't be good…'
Dante mentally checked his bones, wondering if enough time had passed and they were healed enough for some attempt at moving again, but no luck.
So, waiting. Yay.
At least he managed noticed how his spine had made some progress.
Now he felt an awful agony near where it had been broken instead of utter numbness.
It was better, he supposed.
Dante heard some more of the rubble moving, the one that was dangerously close to where his head was positioned, and he felt dread pool at his stomach.
'Ah, shit. I didn't want to deal with a smashed skull today.'
It would leave him dizzy for hours. Dante never failed to feel as if he had scrambled eggs instead of brains afterwards.
The wreckage beside him shifted, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to avoid the feeling of his eyeballs getting squished.
(Eyes are too gooey, man…People have no idea what a weird feeling it is to have them squelch inside your own face until they do)
He hears the wreckage falling down, but no new pain registers. Distantly, Dante wonders if his brain had simply decided to shut his pain receptors off. That would be a new one.
However, he soon realizes that that isn't the case when he hears some quick footsteps getting closer to him.
Footsteps that he easily recognizes.
'Oh. I must've been gone for a while then.'
And he really must have. At least if the hurried pace of the boots is any indication.
In his defence, he had thought that he was going to take less time to finish the job.
And he knows that he is late, but that doesn't make the sound of the hurried steps of the person getting closer to him less surprising.
It feels…weird knowing that getting back late is something to take into account now, now that there is someone who is keeping tabs on where he is going when leaving on a job. Someone expecting him to make it back every time.
There had been times where he had been gone for far longer, so surely, it can't be that worrying for him to be getting back home late.
His friends had seen that and they had never gotten this worked up about it.
…
He thinks…
(Wait, no. They had chewed him off for days after getting back. He had nearly forgotten.
Honestly, they didn't need to make such a big deal of him leaving behind a will. It had been a precaution.
Mostly, anyway)
Minutes passed without any other new development, so before Dante could stop it, his head began to drift off again. Before he could fully embrace the enticing idea of falling sleep, however, Dante felt a hand on his cheek, holding his head in place.
"Dante. Wake up."
Sheesh, what's he sounding so worked up about now? He is perfectly awake.
"Brother."
Oh. Oh no. The voice sounded worried.
It shouldn't sound like that, not when Dante could feel the distress radiating off of it.
He is perfectly fine and awake and only a bit tired after having several of his limbs broken and not being able to breath and—
…
Right, he had closed his eyes, hadn't he?
Dammit all.
Dante willed his eyes to open, which he achieved much more slowly than how he would normally do. His eyelids were heavy, the effort of keeping them open making him feel light-headed.
He blearily registered how awfully tired he felt all of sudden.
(Probably because of the lack of oxygen. They may not need to breath as much as a full-blooded human does, but breathing is actually really nice)
The hand on his face patted his cheek a bit, trying to gain his attention, before resting it there again. Dante blinked up and finally looked at the person staring down at him.
His twin's meticulous gaze met his own.
"Ggghhhiii-"
Oh, yeah. His lungs are not doing okay. Talking is a no-no.
His bad.
Vergil cringed at his attempt at a greeting, but Dante caught how some of the tension on his posture had left his shoulders.
That wasn't great either, actually. His brother was better than that at hiding his worry. Usually.
Because he was probably worried.
(Which even after the few months of them living together felt weird but, to be fair, having Vergil around was still surprising)
Though yeah. If Dante had been the one to find his twin neck deep in a bunch of wreckage laying in a pool of his own blood he would have been worried too.
(…Aaand, Vergil had also seen him with his eyes closed and unmoving when he had arrived.
…Shiiiit…)
Dante was really hoping that this wouldn't make it into his sibling's nightmare repertoire. He had more than enough of those.
(He knows for a fact that had the situation been reversed it would have made it into his own, along with all the others)
Vergil looked at the rubble trapping him, an analytic shine in his eyes. He still kept his hand in Dante's cheek, who couldn't help but lean into the touch.
It felt nice. Far better than the floor and his makeshift blanket of doom.
"How wounded are you Dante?"
"Hghhh?"
Vergil paused for a moment, while Dante gave him a sheepish look.
His brother thinned his lips "…Of course."
This conversation was going to be a doozy. Dante seriously hoped that Vergil had any ideas on how to work with this, because he was currently a bit stuck on what to do.
(Hah. Stuck)
He snickered a bit, while his brother narrowed his eyes at him.
(How much blood had he lost again?)
"Blink once to say no, twice to say yes. Do you understand me, Dante?"
Yeah, he did. He was being crushed at the moment, but he was not stupid nor deaf.
"Brother"
Ah, right he needed to blink.
Dante rolled his eyes, but he complied, blinking twice at his brother.
Vergil huffed, but didn't comment. "Good. Now. Have you stopped bleeding?" he asked furrowing his brow at the stain that had finally stopped spreading.
Maybe stopped spreading.
Dante blinked twice for the first question. He actually wasn't sure about the second one.
His brother lifted his eyebrow, still staring intently at him.
Dante would have huffed at his sibling if he had the chance.
He focused on thinking about it, attempting to notice if his wounds were still as bad as before.
He was probably still bleeding a bunch, but he was not feeling too much of anything to really be able to tell.
He decided to blink one eye once as an answer.
Vergil looked at him, unimpressed.
"What's that supposed to mean? That you don't know? That you aren't sure?"
Dante blinked twice as a response. His brother sighed looking up at the ceiling, aggravated.
Shame that Dante didn't have the capacity to currently laugh, because his brother's face was priceless.
His brother finally looked down again, continuing his interrogatory, "Your lungs and ribs. Both broken?" two blinks.
"Any other serious wounds?" two blinks again.
"Legs? Arms?" two blinks and a pause, then one blink next.
Vergil hummed. "Legs. Alright. Something else?" twice again, "Your back? I assume it was crushed too?" eh, yeah, close enough to that. Two blinks again.
When Vergil was finally satisfied with his questions he carefully manoeuvred Dante's head, checking to see that he hadn't missed anything. Dante didn't even feel annoyed at his scepticism, too tired to care right now.
Besides, his brother was surprisingly mindful while he checked, even quietly apologizing when Dante flinched at a small movement that sent a flash of pain down his back.
'Overall, could be doing far worse', Dante mused.
Despite the fuzziness and tiredness that filled his head, the presence of his sibling was reassuring, in a way that made the previous suffocating pressure far less daunting, the quiet and small space turning less foreboding.
Finally his brother got up from the crouching position he had been in for the last several minutes, and began to move further away, just outside of Dante's perception.
"Eerrggghh" he managed to gurgle, attempting to call for his sibling.
He probably should stop trying to talk.
His head pounded painfully after his failed attempt at twisting around to look for where his twin had gone, blotches of colour staining his (thankfully non-crushed) eyes.
A breathless gasp escapes him while trying to free one of his arms, straining itself trying to reach for his twin.
Vergil thankfully returns to his side quickly, all while Dante still squirms trying to get out.
His brother crouches beside him just like before, his hand back in place, cutting him off from continuing. "I'm here. I was looking around to see how terrible of an idea would it be to move the ceiling to avoid you from turning into a pancake."
A pancake? Gosh, what has Vergil even come to. Comparing him to a pancake, really.
Against any kind of logic he has, Dante opens his mouth to clear up the complete nonsense his brother has just spewed, "iiiZzzaaa".
He even tries adding a grin for good measure, but Dante is pretty sure that it's more pitiful than anything.
Vergil rolls his eyes. "Right, of course. From turning into a pizza, not a pancake. My bad."
Hah, his brother may try, but Dante manages to catch a glimpse of Vergil's fond, if a bit fed up, smile
(Even if his eyes are getting blurrier by the minute. He is really excited that he'll be able to breathe again)
It makes him feel all fuzzy inside.
(He honestly hopes that it's that the reason for it, and not that his lungs are collapsing. That would really suck.)
Vergil lets go of his face again, and Dante can't help the mournful whine that escapes him at the loss of warmth.
The thought of having to wait for his sibling to get him out while he hopes not to end up completely buried doesn't help at all, making his heart speed up again.
Vergil shushes him.
"I'll be back in a moment Dante, don't worry. Don't move."
What a good idea Verge! Not moving, how didn't he think of that before?
His brother doesn't bother with giving a response to the look Dante sends him after that comment and goes away once again.
He hears something being shifted, little tiny pebbles falling to the floor. There is a spark of power a few paces away, and the previous eerie sensation caused by the darkness around him is drowned by a blast of fiery power that crashes into Dante like a tsunami, wrapping him as if it was a blanket.
Seems like his brother has opted for using his Trigger. It proves effective, because it's not even a moment later that Dante feels the crushing pressure from before being lifted from his chest.
It makes him wheeze at the sudden difference in sensation.
He hears the remains of the ceiling that had been trapping him being carefully moved around and then dismissed to the side, barely disturbing the precarious structure of the warehouse.
Impressive, and in any other situation he might have even teased Vergil for bothering to be so careful helping him.
Regretfully, he is too busy at the moment trying to breathe in a lungful of air with his punctured lungs. He gurgles a bit, the extra blood that had been trapped inside his throat falling through his lips.
His ribs are burning, and his lungs are filling up with liquid, but after the initial pain, and a scramble to the side where he must hurl up half of his organs, he is breathing.
Dante feels his body working faster, trying to heal his wounds now that he is free and it doesn't need to focus on maintaining his insides from getting flattened.
His spine feels as if it's being melded inside of him, piece by little piece slotting back into place. He can also actually feel his legs now, starting to heal along with everything else.
Joy, just a bit more until moving isn't fully impossible.
Dante chokes on his own bloody saliva, and tries to curl into himself, to keep his inside from more harm, but his bones protest, loudly.
Dante let's out a sound between a cry and scream, but before he can flail around in pain, someone grabs him by the shoulders and lifts him a bit.
Before he knows it, Dante is laying on his side against something much more comfortable that the ruined floor.
He blinks, trying to make sense of the change.
The floor had been awfully cold. He hadn't noticed until now, between the blood loss and the pain. It just hadn't registered.
But his brother on the other hand, is the full opposite, feeling like a furnace, being warm and familiar.
Dante can't help how he immediately melts against his sibling, who holds him mindful of his injuries. He shivers at the contrasting sensations.
"Steady, Dante. It's alright."
Dante let's out a pained sound, and lays his head against his brother's shoulder, head positioned in a way that also allows him to lay his ear against his neck.
This way, he can hear his brother's heart beating calmly underneath him, helping him measure his breaths, even if his ribs and back are still working against him.
Dante manages a full breath, before coughing, convulsing.
Vergil keeps a steady hold of him anyway, all while his body heals the worst part of the damage. It will take a while until he is at full health again, probably a few hours.
If he wasn't so busy, trying not to suffocate, he would have been more annoyed by that.
After an undetermined amount of time, between lapses of Dante struggling to breath and choking, he settles down a bit, finally shifting enough to allow Vergil to let him go.
His twin has already been far more lenient than usual letting him cling like a baby while he healed the worst of his injuries. He doesn't want to bother him too much.
Surprisingly, his brother doesn't relent his hold. He simply changes his position, manoeuvring Dante and getting more comfortable, but still keeping the younger twin close against his chest.
Dante is probably still a bit out of sorts still, because this is not what he was expecting. He furrows his brow, confused.
"Vergil?" he manages to rasp out. He cringes back at the way his voice scratches his throat.
"Hmmm?"
"Aren't we…gonna leave now?"
"Yes. In a bit." His brother tightens his hold for a moment, just before he goes back to how it was earlier. Safe, secure. But not stifling.
Dante blinks looking at his brother, whose eyes have a faraway look.
"…Verge? You okay?" he questions quietly.
Vergil finally turns his head to look at him, allowing Dante to catch something unexpected in his gaze, despite his brother's quick concealment of his expression.
Fear. His brother had been scared.
(For him?)
Dante furrows his brow, "How long was I out?" His brother tries to avoid answering by shifting his hold on Dante again, but he is not going to simply let him off the hook like this. Nuh-huh, no chance for that.
He nudges Vergil with his elbow insistently, something particularly easy to do when he is being held directly against Vergil's chest.
His twin breathes out from his nose, probably wishing that he was in any condition to be hit right now. Dante smirks, already thinking about how he is going to milk this situation in the near future.
"C'mon, Verge. Veeeerge"
Vergil doesn't turn to look at him, but he finally answers after Dante catches him in the stomach. His brother clenches his teeth glaring at the far off wall, but his annoyance is short lived, face twisting to something far more blank once again before he answers.
"…A while."
Well. Really specific there.
Though that is definitely code for a fuck-ton of time. So yeah. Yeah, that probably explains why his brother is here right now looking as if he had been expecting a ghost.
This is clearly not going to help his brother in matters of letting him sleep, nope. It will be a damn miracle if it doesn't make it worse.
Dante feels a lump of guilt bubbling up his throat, so he slumps some more against his brother, nuzzling his shoulder slightly, "…Sorry. Didn't mean to." he manages to rasp out.
His brother exhales, before turning his head towards Dante to face him again.
The younger twin blinks sluggishly, at his brother, his exhaustion becoming more and more prominent the more time it passes.
The gaze of his brother's eyes is oddly soft, but most importantly, also plainly seen right now. It's a rare admission of care that Vergil doesn't like to display too often.
Dante feels his thoughts halting, confusion making his thoughts stagger.
"I'm sure you were not planning on getting a building to fall on top of you. You are terribly foolish, brother, but not as much as that, I hope."
Dante tries glaring half-heartedly at Vergil, but holding his head up is getting a more tiring task by the moment, so he decides to simply grumble at him, lightly punching his arm.
It's fine. He'll get him back for that comment at another time. When he is not feeling like he had just splattered all over the ground (which he technically has, actually)
His twin chuckles slightly, leaning his head to rest his chin against Dante's crown.
Dante's voice sounds muffled against Vergil's vest, "No, duh." he pauses for a second, struggling to think on what to say, "…But still. Sorry. I'll try to make sure the building falls while I'm not inside next time."
His brother passes a hand through his hair tenderly, "Well, that's good to know." he says while the quiet settles against them once more.
Dante can feel his eyes dropping, getting heavier by the minute. The world becomes smaller, narrowing down to his brother's warm hug and soft caresses through his hair.
(Their mother used to do this kind of thing too…)
"…Next time" he pauses, struggling to think. His head is getting heavier, but Dante pushes through his exhaustion, "…we can both go..that way you don't have to worry, like the dumbass you are, and…check who gets the higher score…'gain"
By the end of his speech Dante can feel himself running out of steam, words slurring, slipping faster, his last remnants energy starting to vanish. The world around him is blurring at the edges and his thoughts become more and more disjointed, less and less coherent.
He feels himself starting to fall down asleep when he feels his brother shift, moving away his head. Before Dante can even complain about the change, his brother lifts his face, squeezing his cheeks, and something press lightly against his forehead.
He is pretty sure that his brain shuts down for a good three seconds at that. It probably takes even longer while it reboots.
Dante can just— stare at nothing while he processes the blatant display of affection.
His mind is pretty much blank, unable to comprehend that Vergil, his twin has just given him a peck on the forehead, just like when they were little kids, barely able to walk on their own.
The last time he even remembers that happening they probably had been six.
He nearly misses his brother's quiet answer, too busy willing his brain to work.
"Foolish little brother. I'll always worry. You're a handful to deal with after all."
He is such a— Arrogant ass, he hadn't even—
And just like that—!
Dante is too god damn tired to keep himself awake today. This is too much, his brain has been completely friend.
(He absolutely refuses to focus on his boiling face. He is not embarrassed. Absolutely not)
He is feeling too warm and comfortable, his insides too gooey (either from being nearly squished to death, or from his sibling being so— so sentimental today, damn it), and with his brother's reassuring presence at his side and tiredness pressing down on him, there is nothing to focus on but the feeling of safe.
He is asleep before his brother even summons Yamato, ready to carry him home.